


Enamour Me

by stilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski/pseuds/stilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, "<em>How to Woo An Oblivious Human College Student According to Derek Hale</em>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enamour Me

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this is pure, unadulterated, unapologetic fluff.
> 
> **Additionally: I do not give my consent for my work to be shared on GoodReads, or any other site with a similar objective. Ever. No exceptions.**

Derek paced, pausing every now and then to look at the door. He double checked his phone - triple and quadruple checked, too, just in case - to make sure the text had sent. He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and re-read it, making sure that he'd followed all of the steps. He knew he had - he'd ticked them all off when completed - but he felt the need to check anyway.

The list (Isaac had scrawled "How to Woo An Oblivious Human College Student According to Derek Hale" across the top, after laughing riotously for ten minutes straight upon finding it) detailed five steps:

  1. Appreciate him without sounding patronizing. Somehow. Refrain from smacking him.
  2. Make him laugh. Don't do this at someone else's expense. Maybe at your own.
  3. Be seen with him. Show him you're willing to be seen in public associating with him.
  4. Initiate conversation - show you want to talk to him. Do not allow him to think you just want something from him. Even if you do.
  5. Feed him. Not junk food. Show you can provide for him?



Isaac had added (un)helpful additions, such as ' _Don't leave dead animals on his porch!_ ' in response to number five, underlining ' _Don't do this at someone else's expense_ ' twice, and ' _Why are you writing a list to yourself in second person? The fact you want Stiles is your worst kept secret_ '.

  Derek shoved the list back into his pocket and checked his phone again for the sent text message: ' _Come by the loft tonight. Dinner should be ready by 7_ '. He'd sent it six hours previously and hadn't received a response. He glanced at the clock - six fifty five. Unfamiliar anxiety churned in his stomach and he resisted the urge to go and lurk by the window. Stiles didn't always reply to text messages - Derek had witnessed him receive a text and get halfway through responding before his attention was snatched away and he found something more interesting to do - but the fact that he hadn't responded to this one in particular was gnawing at his nerves.

*

_Appreciate him._

Stiles looked like he was ready to drop: he had dark smudges under his eyes and his hair was in disarray. He didn't wait to see if Derek was still following him as he pushed his way into his dorm room, peeling off his hoody and toeing off his sneakers and collapsing face-first onto his bed.

"Stiles," said Derek, taking a startled step back when Stiles flipped over after letting out a yelp.

  "Jesus, dude! I didn't know you were still here!"

  "I just - I wanted to say thanks."

  Stiles stared at him - gaped, more like - in silence for a few seconds. "Yeah, no problem, buddy. Just let me know next time you want to go ghoul hunting so I can run screaming in the opposite direction."

  Derek shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. "I know you have school work now and it's important - you don't have to help m--us, but you do, so, thank you. I appreciate it. We appreciate it."

  Stiles was still staring, nonplussed, when Derek ducked out of the room feeling awkward but pleased with himself.

*

_Make him laugh._

Derek stared at his list. What did Stiles find funny? For all he was the hyperactive clown, Derek didn't think he'd ever actually seen Stiles laugh properly. He'd smirked and made sarcastic comments, but Derek couldn't recall ever seimg him laugh.

  Stiles snarked at Scott, finding amusement in Scott's misadventures, but Derek knew Stiles to be fiercely protective: the second someone other than Stiles took pleasure in Scott's mishaps, Stiles was first in line to defend his best friend. Derek needed something genuinely funny - not at the expense of anyone else.

  The answer came to him quite accidentally a few days later. Stiles, Lydia, Scott and the newly emerged Jackson were gathered at the loft. Pack members had developed a habit of turning up to spend the weekend at the loft when they had nothing pressing going on at college. Isaac had disappeared to go and collect pizza. Stiles and Scott had been immersed in Call of Duty, then had quit when Lydia showed them both up. Jackson was sulking.

  He'd been snarking at Derek all afternoon, trying to show him as inept. Derek was more willing than anyone to admit he'd been sort of useless at the whole alpha thing to begin with, but he did like to think he had improved and gathered something resembling control over his pack via hard fought loyalty over the years. Any time Derek actually asked Jackson what is problem was, however, Jackson would clam up and say it was nothing.

  It reached a crux just as Isaac returned with half a dozen pizza boxes. Jackson was hovering behind the sofa where Derek was sprawled, Stiles was sitting cross-legged beside him, attention on the TV, Scott in the armchair across the room and Lydia sitting primly on the loveseat, texting.

  "Jackson, do you have a problem?" Derek asked; Jackson may as well have been breathing down the back of Derek's neck and it was becoming irritating.

  "No," Jackson said, tone implying he did.

  "Then sit down," Derek said, his voice monotone. "Panting down my neck is creepier than I'm used to. I'm the sulky lurker, not you."

  Stiles snorted at that, mouth splitting in a grin even though his eyes were still on the television.

  Jackson didn't budge.

  "Jackson," Derek said, quirking an eyebrow but not doing much more, keeping his voice deadpan even as he watched Isaac enter, pizza boxes precariously balanced. "I brought you into this world - I can and will take you out."

  That startled a laugh out of not just Stiles, but Scott and Isaac too. Derek allowed himself a half smile, a warm glow of achievement settling in his gut. Perhaps this wooing thing wasn't so difficult.

*

_Be seen with him._

Derek had watched how Stiles interacted with his friends: everyone seemed to congregate at someone's house - Scott went out with Isaac and even Allison sometimes, he'd go out with Stiles, but usually to practice lacrosse or something, not to go to diners or movies, and Lydia and Jackson were nigh inseprable. Boyd was still something of a loner, but even he joined Isaac and Scott out at times. Stiles didn't seem to have anyone to pair off with - he did a lot of things on his own, and though he seemed quite content to do so, Derek wondered if he ever got lonely. Stiles didn't live at home with his father anymore, and he had a single dorm at college. Derek was sure Stiles had friends at college, but they never visited him when he was at home.

  The point was, Derek hadn't seen Stiles out and about with any of the pack.

  This was how Derek found himself on the Stilinski's porch over winter break. He knocked the door and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He relaxed his shoulders briefly before wondering if it made him look ready for a fight. He was busy internally arguing with himself as to how normal people stood and waited for someone to answer the door when it swung open and Stiles blinked at him around the frame.

  "Derek?"

  "No, the toothfairy," Derek grunted. He liked Stiles, but he did come out with stupid things a lot of the time; Stiles cracked a grin and pulled the door wider.

  "What can I do for you, O Alpha My Alpha?"

  Derek felt a flush of warmth at Stiles calling him his even if the title had been dripping in sarcasm before he caught himself. "The Camaro's in the shop," he said, and it wasn't a lie, even if he'd purposefully broken something so it would be there. "I wanted to ask if you'd give me a ride - I need to go to an Occult store a few towns away to have a look at a grimoire they're trying to sell. Reports say it's cursed."

  Stiles stared at him, mouth hanging open. Stiles' mouth was always open. It was distracting.

  "I'll supply you with coffee," Derek suggested, raising an eyebrow and trying to play it cool, even if his brain was screeching that it sounded like he was asking Stiles on a date.

  "How could I resist? Just - one second--" there was a tinny click of a fake shutter and Derek took a few seconds to register that Stiles had taken a photo of him. Stiles was grinning and tucking his phone away before Derek could figure out what to do with this information. "I needed to immortalise the fact you were standing on my porch asking me for something, rather than, you know, turning up in my bedroom and telling me. Nobody would believe me otherwise."

  Derek didn't say anything, settling for scowling at Stiles while he fumbled his way into a jacket and grabbed his keys.

  Derek had Stiles stop a short walk away from the store, telling Stiles it was so that if there were any genuine witches in the place, they wouldn't know what car to sabotage if things went south - which they so often did.

  Derek allowed Stiles to cooerce him into stopping to get a to go coffee on their way to the store and they fell into companionable silence as they walked. The only times Derek had really known Stiles to be silent was when he was content with everything going on around him, and he took comfort in that. Stiles was enjoying hanging around Derek even though there was no immediate threat to either of their wellbeing.

  "Thanks," said Derek, figuring it couldn't hurt to go all out and make Stiles feel both useful and appreciated. "For this, I mean: I wasn't looking forward to walking forty miles. It's probably a good thing I'm not going in alone, too - having someone I can trust to have my back."

  Stiles looked a little surprised but overall pleased by the praise. "No problem, buddy. You offered me coffee and a potentially evil book, dude - I wasn't going to pass that up. It's good to get out of the house, too. I haven't been here since I was a kid."

*

_Initiate conversation._

Stiles' stream-of-conscience vocality meant that Stiles was usually four steps of conversation ahead of everyone else, so Derek was at something of a loss when it came to attempting to come up with a way of starting a conversation with Stiles without him jumping in first.

  Derek was starfished out on the couch staring at the ceiling, his list in hand, when Isaac appeared in his peripheral vision.

  "Text him, dumbass," Isaac said, and he was definitely spending far too much time in Stiles' or Jackson's general vicinity. Derek sat up, frowning. Isaac rolled his eyes and stalked away - definitely Jackson: Stiles wasn't very good at stalking anywhere.

  Derek looked at his phone. He forgot he had one most days because of how silent it stayed: usually if there was danger, he'd know about it because either he'd be the one running as fast as his legs could carry him, or one of his pack would come crashing through the door, wild eyed and covered in blood. Derek grabbed for the device and thumbed at the screen, gazing down at the display. He opened a new text, scrolling through his contacts to find Stiles.

_Who would win in a fight, Spiderman or the Hulk?_

  Barely a minute passed before his phone began blaring out some horrendous pop music abomination - something about throwing a wish in a well - and Derek made a mental note to glare extra hard next time he saw Stiles.

_I want to say Spiderman, but probably the Hulk._

_Captain America or Iron Man?_

_Tony wears the pants in that relationship for sure._

_Relationship???_

_If you've seen the Avengers and don't think they're twenty seconds away from ripping each others' clothes off at any given time, you're a filthy liar._

_What._

_Come on! Steve and Tony sitting in a tree..._

_I don't recall there being any trees in the Avengers._

_Oh my God._

_What?_

_You're impossible._

_Wonderwoman or catwoman?_

_Catwoman. Because Erica's memory will strangle me in my sleep if I say otherwise._

Derek suppressed a grin. The conversation continued from there, debating various heroes and their merits. Stiles fired a few questions back at him and seemed pleasantly surprised when Derek responded without missing a beat.

  Derek ticked off step four on his list that evening, feeling accomplished.

*

_Feed him._

Contrary to popular opinion, Derek knew how to cook. He'd spent endless hours hovering around his grandmother and his parents in the kitchen. Laura had been a horrible cook, and so for the years they spent in New York, Derek had done the vast majority of the food preparation, working in kitchens and studying culinary arts.

  Derek knew Stiles was inclined to love anything that was even remotely edible - he'd seen the number of frozen dinners in the freezer last time he'd been at Stiles' dorm looking for an ice pack or frozen peas - but he also knew Stiles' favourite dish was spaghetti bolognaise, and that it was all but impossible to go wrong with Italian food when it came to Stiles.

  Derek threw together spaghetti because it was a failsafe, and he had blueberry pie in the fridge, which he knew, curly fries aside, was Stiles' kryptonite.

  Which brought Derek to where he was, all but wearing a figure eight in the floor from his pacing. He watched the clock tick by in what felt like five of the longest minutes of his life.

  So loud were Derek's thoughts that he was genuinely caught off guard by a knock at the door. He skittered over to it and then ran back, taking his time to walk to the door and peer through the peephole. Biting back a relieved grin, Derek pulled the door open.

  "Stiles - hey," Derek said, only just managing not to sound breathy.

  Stiles fixed him with an amused look. "No, the toothfairy," he said. Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, stepping back and gesturing for Stiles to enter the loft. Stiles smiled and handed him the bottle of wine he'd been holding. Derek took the opportunity to glance over what Stiles was wearing. Gone was the plaid and slogan t-shirts, in their place a fitted white shirt and skinny tie, and the dark jeans he was wearing fit him far better than any other jeans Derek had seen him wearing. To top it off, he was wearing shoes that weren't his usual sneakers.

  Stiles knew. He knew he was on a date. He knew he was on a date and he'd still turned up, he'd still made an effort.

  Derek shut the door and locked it, following Stiles. He hovered a palm over the small of Stiles' back, fingertips barely brushing the back of his shirt.

  "You like spaghetti, right?" Derek asked, sidling past and setting the bottle by the sink.

  Stiles looked at him with a teasing little grin. "You know I like spaghetti," he said. "I am wearing a white shirt, though, so you're inviting trouble."

  Derek quirked an eyebrow. "You can take it off if you needed to," he said, forcing himself not to smirk at the suggestiveness. "I do own a washing machine."

  Derek served the food up and poured the wine, leading Stiles to the table and putting the plates down. Stiles' eyes lit up with amusement and something Derek couldn't identify when Derek pulled his chair out for him.

  Conversation came easily. The steps in Derek's plans to win Stiles' affections had ensured that they had common ground. At one point, Stiles had made a gesture with his fork, trying to illustrate the point he was making, and a piece of spaghetti went flying across the room. Both Stiles and Derek watched it go and Derek had _laughed_ , which, judging by Stiles' expression, was the complete opposite reaction from that which Stiles had been expecting. Derek had just rolled his eyes and looked back to his food.

  Stiles was grinning when Derek brushed close to him to collect his plate, even turning his head ever so slightly to the side, exposing the smooth column of his neck. Derek fought with himself not to just pull Stiles to him then and there, forcing himself to straighten and take the dishes to the sink. Stiles spun and followed, jumped up onto the counter beside the sink.

  "There's pie in the fridge," said Derek, rinsing his plate and flicking his gaze towards where there were two empty bowls by the refrigerator. Stiles hopped down and went to investigate, returning to Derek's side with the pie, bowls and a can of cream.

  "You don't need to keep trying so hard, you know. I'm hooked. I've been hooked for a while, now," he said, there was a trace of a grin in his voice. Stiles glanced up from the pie just as Derek looked up from the last dish. "When you followed me back to my dorm after the ghoul - you were checking I was okay and psyching yourself up to thank me. The look on your face - you were so worried I'd think you were just being an ass."

  Derek smiled and looked down, drying his hands on a dish towel. "It wouldn't have been the first time."

  Stiles reached over to trace his fingertips over the back of one of Derek's hands. "And you'd been trying for weeks to make me laugh," Stiles said. "Without being obvious about it - which, just so you know, was _really_ obvious: you're the least subtle person I know, and I'm including both Scott and I in that statement."

  "I was considering trying to convince Lydia to put a truth spell on Jackson to see if that would make you laugh," Derek admitted. Stiles snorted.

  "I'd have paid good money to see that," he said. "You made me laugh the most when you weren't actually trying to. You should remember that. I think you're hilarious, but if you ever tell anyone else I said that, I'll deny it forever. Anyway, where were we? Oh, you sabotaged your own car just to spend time with me, and you bought me coffee and didn't whine when I picked the radio station. That was totally an almost-date, dude."

  "I didn't--"

  "Don't even deny it. The minotaur was two weeks before and your car went nowhere near it," Stiles said; Derek huffed, lips twitching. "And dude, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret - if you'd kicked off and begun bugging me with superheroes at random intervals the first time you thanked me properly, you'd have been in my pants within the week."

  "Burly men in lycra get you off?"

  Stiles made a noise halfway between a choke and a laugh. " _No_ ," he said emphatically. "But it would have endeared me to you so much that I'd have been almost incapable of telling you how awesome you are for agreeing with me that Batman is the best superhero because there's nothing super about him. Even if you didn't mean it. I like it when you talk geek to me."

  "I did mean it - I do," Derek said. "I have--had--an impressive comic collection when I was younger. Would have made yours cower. My comics would have beat your comics up and stole their lunch money. Laura used to tease me about them. I was popular and athletic, and I had the biggest comic book collection anyone had ever seen."

  Stiles was all out grinning by then, pulling Derek towards him. "You're so hot," he said; there was a teasing lilt - verging on sarcastic - to his voice, but Derek was sufficiently distracted by Stiles' mouth on his, Stiles' arms curling around his neck and pulling him closer so that Stiles became a line of heat pressed all down Derek's front. The kiss was soft at first, just lips against lips, testing, tentative, until Derek slid his tongue along the seam of Stiles' mouth and was granted access, hands curling over Stiles' hips. He tasted of ragu and blueberries - Derek hadn't even seen him take a piece of pie - and while it was one of the stranger flavour combinations Derek had tasted in a while, it worked and he wanted to fall into it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [on Tumblr](http://obroech.tumblr.com/). Feel free to hit me up :)


End file.
